


Poor Unfortunate Souls

by DrunkenColaBottle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universes, Coffee Shop, College, I'll edit these the deeper down the rabbit hole I go, M/M, Pretend couple, Universe Alteration, there is actually a plot tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 20:27:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2322149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrunkenColaBottle/pseuds/DrunkenColaBottle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean find himself stuck knocked out in an alley in a world that isn't quite what he's used to.</p>
<p>Basically, this the story about how Dean gets stuck in a whole bunch of different fanfiction tropes and how much of an asshole as a writer I am. I got inspired by the name of the 200th episode, and since they most likely won't make it anything like this, I figured I might as well write stuff myself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Whole New World

**Author's Note:**

> Um... this is purely written as a joke, really... my sense of humour is bad, so you have no obligations to laugh. That said, I have nothing against any of the common tropes that'll come up in this story; I just think Dean probably wouldn't be too fond of being thrown into them. Just a feeling. He'll get over it.  
> I dunno about the rating... I'm not the kind to plan things out too much (as I get bored too easily if I do) so you can pretty much disregard it at this stage. I'll post a note at the start of the chapter if anything explicit happens, I guess.
> 
> I still (just like 5 minutes ago) have no beta reader, so if there are typos... well shit. Point them out and I'll annihilate them.

Dean Winchester woke up with his face pressed against cold, dark asphalt. It took him a few seconds to awaken, but once he did, he quickly reached two conclusions: firstly, he had a bump on his head that hurt more than he was comfortable letting on, and secondly; he had absolutely no clue where he was. By the looks of things, he was in a dark alleyway, but how he got there and where in the world this alleyway was completely eluded him. The buildings on each side of him were both tall, casting dark shadows to further conceal his surroundings. Looking straight up, he could see a blue sky, so if nothing else, he could at least conclude that it was daytime. At one end of the alley was a brick wall, hindering any further ventures in that direction, and at the other end he could see the opening into a street with just a bit of light traffic on the road.

He stood, his head spinning a little as he did, and made his way towards the street. He almost tripped over an inconveniently placed trashcan when the sun’s eager beams stuck his eyes. He raised his hand to shield himself.

“Crap,” he mumbled with a groan. He couldn’t remember at all how he had ended up here, which was the main reason for his disgruntlement. That and the headache. However, it did look like a nice enough place, aside from the unfamiliarity of it.

It wasn’t what one would call a busy street. Only a scarce number of people were out, and only the occasional car could be see on the one-way street. The houses were mainly made of red and yellow bricks and it appeared as though most top floors were residential, while the bottom ones contained various small shops. Just taking a quick glance, he could see a second-hand bookstore, a corner store, a place seemingly selling ‘herbal health care’, and a coffee shop. Right next to him, on his right, was a pizzeria named _Papa Death’s_ with the slogan ‘Food to Die for’ – they did home delivery. Dean blinked a few times.

 

“Dean!”

He looked up. Out from the bookstore a tall and familiar figure walked, waiving at him from across the street; Sam.

Dean made his way towards his brother, managing to try and cross the road just as one of the rare cars came chugging along. He waited in silent annoyance as it passed him by.

Once he reached Sam, he could see that he was holding a small bag in his hand with what seemed like a new purchase of old books.

“Really?” he said, pointing at the bag, “You don’t have enough of those?”

“I thought you said you’d wait outside, what were you doing all the way over there?” Sam asked, ignoring Dean’s question, “You got hungry?”

Dean reached up and rubbed the bump on his head.

“No, I- I think I fell or something,” he mumbled, still not able to recall what had actually happened.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just a little disoriented. What, uh, what are we doing here again?”

His brother raised an eyebrow, but then switched to a genuinely concerned expression.

“You hit your head that hard? Maybe we should go see a doctor?” he suggested.

“No, it’s fine. It’s just a bump, really, and I’m up on my feet so it can’t be all that bad,” Dean replied, rubbing a hand over his face. His headache was in no way relenting, and Sam’s prodding gaze didn’t make it any better.

“I’m fine. Where are we going?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

At that, Sam returned to looking mildly dubious. He then turned his head to the side and pointed at the building next to the bookstore – the coffee shop.

“There,” he said, “I told you I wanted to check out the new place. That’s why we’re even out here to begin with. Please tell me you just weren’t paying attention before and that you didn’t actually manage to get amnesia while I was gone for five minutes.”

“What? Oh – _Really?_ ” Dean looked at what was apparently their destination. _Angel’s Brew_. _What a stupid name_ , he thought. He’d be damned if he were to walk into a place stuffed full with symbolic mumbo jumbo about angels and halos and harps and all that jazz. If the people running places like that had actually met a live angel, they probably wouldn’t be so fond of the dicks.

“So, what? This a job, or…?” He sighed. What Sam’s interest in this place could possibly be didn’t appear to him.

“No, Dean, it’s not a job,” Sam huffed, “If you really can’t get work out of your head, you can always ask them about their air conditioning or something.”

“Why would I ask about their air conditioning?”

Sam let out a snort and rolled his eyes, and then proceeded to drag his brother along.

“We haven’t had time to relax in – I don’t know how long. Just… let’s just take it easy for a while, okay?” he said.

Dean would have liked to point out that while they ‘relaxed’ and ‘took it easy’ innocent people were butchered by ghouls, and vamps, and other evil monsters. But he didn’t. Heck, Sam was right; they could do with a bit of a break. Although, visiting a coffee shop wasn’t entirely his idea of a break.

“So why here?” Dean asked as they closed the door behind them. It looked pretty decent, as far as angelic bullshit was concerned; no harps or feathers in sight. The far left wall was of the same brick structure as the outside of the building, and the rest of the walls were painted in a soft blue colour. Every small table, with rather comfortable looking sofas standing by them, had a dark blue tablecloth on them to match the walls. Additionally, the whole place appeared to have a thing for pillows, as they seemed to be thrown around all over. Some had even gotten their own shelved aligned close to the ceiling. Not to mention the weird (also blue) curtains that hung on the walls without any logical motivation.

It didn’t seem to be very popular spot though, as they were the only ones there.

“Who designed this place?” he asked to no one in particular.

“Ellen recommended it,” Sam said.

“What?” For a moment he thought he might have misheard him.

“You asked why I wanted to go here. Ellen said it was a nice place. Apparently the café miel is really good,” Sam explained with a shrug.

“I thought you said this was a new joint?”

He hesitantly followed Sam to the empty counter. They were talking about the same Ellen, right? He couldn’t recall knowing anyone else by that name. Sam rang the bell for service.

“Yeah, they opened two weeks ago. There’s no one here though, I wonder what’s up with that.”

“So, what… you got an Ouija board or something? Or did she leave a note?”

“Uh, no. I went to visit her and Uncle Bobby last week and she happened to mention this place. I just thought it would be a nice stop on our day out,” his brother explained.

“Sam, what are you…? Are you sure _you’re_ not the one who his head here? ‘Cause you’re not making any sen–”

A door behind the counted swung open and a tousled man he knew all too well scurried over to greet them.

“Hi,” he said, “I’m sorry that took so long, there was a bit of a, um, situation in the back. How can I help you?” he said and then smiled politely.

“Cas?” Dean uttered. Suddenly the lopsided decoration made sense. Castiel looked down on his name tag and then back up with a small nod.

“Yes. Can I take your order?”

“Why are you working in a coffee shop?” Dean asked. If this wasn’t all just one big elaborate joke, he didn’t know what to make of it.

“To pay the rent, mostly – I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“Okay, cut that out. What are you guys up to?” He turned to eye his brother suspiciously, but Sam, in turn, looked more surprised than anything.

“I’m sorry, my brother’s acting a bit weird,” Sam said to Cas, before he returned his attention to Dean, “Dean, are you sure you’re okay? What did you hit your head against exactly?”

“He hit his head?” the angel cut in, “Do you need to sit down, sir?”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Sam answered in his stead.

“Okay, lay it off!” Dean barked, pushing off Sam’s hand that had found its way to his shoulder. He was definitely not in the mood for games, even if it was a bit impressive that he had managed to get Cas in on it.

“Stop fooling around, you’re freaking me out,” he said, exhaling sharply, “And it’s just a small bump. I just hit the ground, it’s nothing serious.”

He ran a hand over the bump again and then added, more to himself than the others:

“Unless someone hit me, in which case I guess… but I don’t remember–“

“Someone hit you!?” Sam looked about ready to crap out an egg. What was the big deal? Dean got tackled more often than a professional boxer; there was no need for him to ruffle his feathers.

“Yeah, I guess,” he said, not really knowing what else to say.

“Do you want me to call the police?” Castiel asked from behind the counter. He, too, looked worried for whatever reason.

“No, it’s fine”

“Did he take anything from you?” Sam followed up. What was this, a Q&A? Dean humoured him by checking his pockets. Nope; nothing missing.

“Everything’s intact,” he reported.

Suddenly, Sam changed his look of whatever it was, to a saddened frown.

“You think it was a hate crime?” he asked, putting his hand back on Dean’s shoulder. Dean gave it a frown but didn’t bother pushing it away this time.

“A hate crime?” he echoed, “What, against universally attractive men?”

“No, I mean,” Sam took a step closed, gently squeezing his shoulder, “Because you’re, you know… _gay_.”

 

Dean stared at him for what felt like well over a minute. His brother was looking at him with an A+ poker face of unwavering support. If this really was a joke, and it undoubtedly was, Sam really had stepped up his game.

“… what?” he finally managed to croak out.

“It’s okay, Dean, look, no one here is going to judge you,” Sam assured him, “Right?” He addressed the last bit at Castiel, who joined in with the sympathetic look.

“Of course,” he said.

“Sammy,” Dean said, one strange feeling away from bursting out laughing, “I’m not gay. You know that.”

“It’s okay, you don’t need to be afraid, Dean,” Sam said, raising his other hand to take on a sturdy grip around Deans shoulders.

“This is getting old real fast,” he huffed, taking a step back away from his brother, effectively releasing himself from his clutches.

“You can stop this now,” he growled, “Whatever it is you’re getting at – I’m not playing your game, so just lay it off, okay?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dean,” Sam said. He looked worried again.

“Maybe you should sit down?” Castiel piqued in.

“And-and bringing up Ellen and Bobby like that? Honestly, that’s … that’s kinda wrong, Sammy”

“Why? Did you guys fight or...? Look, just sit down and we’ll talk”

“I’m not sitting down!”

His tone had come out harsher than he had intended, but to be fair, he still had a headache, and both of them were being complete dicks for no reason. Unless Sam was still pissy about him accidentally getting a virus on his precious laptop – something he had already sort of apologized for.

“Okay, so I’m not the best brother in the world, I get that. But don’t bring those guys into whatever stunt you’re pulling.”

Sam decided to imitate a goldfish for a moment before he spoke:

“I’m not. I’m not, Dean, just… Ellen just told me that–”

“Ellen’s dead,” Dean spat. Sam was frankly acting distastefully. Ellen had been as close to a maternal figure Sam had ever had, and this was no way to be treating her memory. If he didn’t clean up his act soon, he would be in for a broken nose.

“What?” Sam blurted out, “W-when– what are you…?”

Dean would have punched him in the face then and there, hadn’t it been for the sincerity of the distraught on Sam’s face.

“When we tried to take down Lucifer with the colt. Sam, you were there. She and Jo… you seriously don’t remember?”

His stomach dropped. Something wasn’t right. Okay, so maybe this wasn’t a joke. Sam wasn’t good enough of an actor to fake all this. Unless, of course, it wasn’t Sam. Or maybe Dean had been sent off to another Bizarro world? He shuddered at the thought.

“The colt? The plastic one we got from Uncle Crowley when we were kids? Dean, uh, not to get you worked up, but I think you should see a doctor,” Sam said. He then continued:

“If it makes you feel any better, I could call Ellen for you?”

_Uncle Crowley?_ Bizarro world it was. Dean internally smacked himself over the face. He was so sick of this happening. Getting stuck in different realities, travelling through time – why couldn’t his life just be easy for once? Heck, it didn’t even need to be easy, so long as it wasn’t so damn _weird_.

“Uh… y-yeah,” he agreed. If Ellen really was alive, Dean would be willing to believe anything Sam told him. Minus the gay part.

Sam fished up a phone, a rather new model by the looks of it, and tapped a few times on the screen. He then held it for Dean to take. He took it and held it to his ear.

“I have some aspirin if you need that,” he heard Cas say as he waited for someone to pick up.

 

“ _Sam_ ,” he heard on the other end, “ _To what do I owe the pleasure?_ ”

He froze, his thoughts swimming around somewhere in the back of his skull. He knew her voice. He hadn’t heard it in years, but it was still as fresh in his memory as if it had only been a few days. She had died. It had been his fault. And yet, here she was; alive and well. He was sick of it. He was sick of the constant reminder being tossed upon him that people he cared about kept dying the moment he got too close. Whatever had trapped in make-believe land had a bad sense of humour.

“ _Sam?_ ”

“Um, no, it’s- it’s me; Dean,” he said finally.

“ _Dean? Well I’ll be damned. When was the last time you called, boy? What can I do you for?_ ”

“I just…” he rubbed his eye and sighed, “I wanted to thank you. For recommending the coffee shop. You know, the… _angel_ one. It’s- it’s great. Thank you.”

He heard her chuckle lightly on the other end.

“ _This has got to be a first. Didn’t think you could teach old dogs to sit, but here you are. Good to know you like it. The service is nice, if a bit chaotic._ ”

Dean glanced over at Cas who was staring at him as if waiting for him to collapse. He had never seen him make a face like that before, and it would have been rather humours had he been in a different mood.

“Really? I’m here with Sam right now and it looks calm enough. Guess we got here during downtime,” he said.

“ _Maybe so_ ”

She chuckled again and Dean couldn’t help but smile at the sound of it.

“ _Hey, listen, I’ve got a steak in the oven and I think it’s just about ready for serving. How about I call you back later? We can talk more then. Or maybe you could come over for once, that would be nice. Jo misses you, and I know I do too. Bobby, not so much. He’s still grumpy about the Dodge Charger you made into scraps_ ”

“Oh, um… could you just- tell him I’m sorry about that?” Dean asked. He couldn’t remember having done anything like that, but having Bobby grouch at you was never a good thing, even from a distance.

“ _You tell him yourself, young man. I’ll call you later. Give Sam a big hug from me_ ”

“Right. Bye”

And then there was silence. He took the phone from his ear and gave it a long wistful stare. Sam’s background picture was of Jessica wrapped up in a blanket like a burrito. Maybe whatever had trapped him in this alternate world was not just spiteful, but rather benevolent? He knew that wasn’t true.

“Dean?” he heard his brother say.

“Yeah, I think I’ll sit down now”


	2. A Spoonful of Sugar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First three chaps will be coming up at once... because they're already written, and I'm impatient.

Sam had calmly helped him get seated in one of the sofas, as though he had needed help walking, while Castiel had run off in search for an ice pack. He had soon returned with one – as well as painkillers, a glass of water, a blanket, and a bag of hard candies, and had put them on the table in front of Dean. Sam had gotten to work with making sure Dean was comfortable, before he ordered two cafè miel from the angel who hastily got to work.

Dean didn’t say anything throughout all of this. He just took the painkillers, pressed the ice pack against his bump, and inspected the frilly end of the blanket in silence. Somehow, he would have to find a way to burst whatever bubble he had been trapped in, and the less he had to screw around the better.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to call a doctor?” Sam asked again. Dean gave him a curt nod and watched as Sam sat down on the seat opposite of his. There was a moment of silence.

“Okay,” Dean finally groaned, “Tell me everything.”

“About what?” Sam asked.

“Okay, um, humour me here. Let’s say I’ve forgotten… everything. _About_ everything. What are the crucial details?”

“Please tell me that’s not-“

“It’s not!” Dean assured him. Whatever version of Sam this was, he seemed to have overdosed on the worry trait.

“I just… I need you to jog my memory a little,” he explained, “Just tell me things.”

Sam didn’t look very convinced, but he spoke anyway.

“Uh, you’re my brother. Your name is Dean Winchester,” he said. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, thank you, Sherlock. How about something a little less friggin’ obvious?”

“I don’t know what you think is obvious, Dean,” Sam said, frowning slightly, “Uh, dad’s a mechanic. You work at his firm. Mom helps out whenever it gets hectic. Jess and I are engaged – that’s important. And, uh, I don’t know, Dean. This is all ‘obvious’ too, right?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. He was unsure how well he was masking his feelings. Their mom was alive? Heck, at this point he’d have to assume most people were. So, what? He’d ended up in the world of happily-ever-after? There had to be a catch somewhere.

“I don’t know what to tell you. I could call dad if you want, and he could drive you to the hospital.”

“It’s fine, Sammy; it really is.”

 

Castiel came walking towards them, balancing a tray in both hands. He looked rather strange in an apron. He was, however, still wearing his trademark blue tie (that he had most decidedly not tied on his own), so there was at least some familiarity to the look.

The angel, or whatever he was in this reality, placed the tray on their table, letting out a small huff of relief as he did.

“Here’s your drinks,” he said, “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Dean shook his head.

“No, thank you, I think that’s all,” Sam said in his place. Cas nodded, but didn’t move from where he stood.

“My, um, my brother is a doctor,” he said, finally, “He’s taught me a few things. I don’t know much about medicine, but I could take a look at your head if you want.”

“Would you?” Sam asked, making Dean groan.

“It’s fine,” he repeated. He had a feeling it wouldn’t make any difference no matter how many times he said that.

“Look, Dean, this could be something really serious. At least let a professional have a look at it,” Sam insisted.

“He _just_ said he wasn’t a professional – what’s with you? You know what? _Fine_ ; look at my head, Cas. You’ll see there’s nothing wrong.”

If he could get Cas to agree with him, maybe Sam would cool off. He couldn’t have him running around panicking like this. If Dean were to have a brain injury, it would have happened already. Heck, thinking about it, he was a bit surprised it hadn’t yet.

Castiel hesitated for a moment, but then took a step towards Dean.

“If I hurt you, just tell me,” he said as he took a hold of Dean’s head. He just huffed in response. As if a deflated angel, who by the looks of things had never even been an angel to begin with, could do him any harm.

He felt Cas’ fingers dig into his scalp and occasionally tug softly at his tresses. At a few times he heard him mumble something, but without being in a line of sight to read his lips, he couldn’t make out what it was.

“You’re not bleeding,” Castiel established. Dean rolled his eyes; he could have told them as much. At least the scalp massage was somewhat soothing, or maybe it was the painkillers that were starting to kick in.

“Of course, if you’re experiencing memory loss you most definitely should see a doctor,” he continued.

“There’s nothing wrong with my memory, my head just feels a little fuzzy is all,” Dean said. If he was really stuck in an alternate reality, which at this point seemed like the most reasonable explanation, there had to be some way for him to get back to his own world. Usually when he got stuck in crazy realities, someone else had been to blame for sticking him there. Chances were it was the same way this time around. What he really had to do then, if that was the case, was to figure out what he had been doing when he got shifted. Had he and Sam been on a case? It had to have been something pretty powerful to have been able to create this whole place. Unless he was just asleep and this was all just one big dreamland. It didn’t particularly feel like the workings of a djinn, although he would still make sure to keep en eye out for leaking imagery from his own world.

A trickster, then? Granted, the only trickster they had ever actually encountered had turned out to be an angel… Angels? But, then, why would an angel trap him in a world where Sam was a total worrywart and Cas worked as a barista? It didn’t make sense. Not yet, in any case. His best bet was to simply play along then, until whatever was behind this messed up. He could do the waiting game.

“Besides,” he said after a moment of receiving doubtful looks, “We’re here to have fun, Sammy. If Ellen recommended it, it’s gotta be pretty good, right?”

He picked up his mug and took a sip of his drink, hoping to some god he had yet to kill that the other two would go along with the change of subject.

“ _Holy crap!_ ” he exclaimed then, “This is awesome!” What the Hell had he done with the coffee? Maybe Cas had got it all wrong before and _this_ was actually his true calling. He’d have to remember to introduce the real Castiel to coffee making whenever he managed to get back to his own world.

“You like it?” He looked a bit strange smiling the way he did, but it wasn’t a gesture that he would considered unwelcomed. The guy could do with smiling a bit more often, anyway.

“Yeah, it’s great. Now if only I had me some pie, I’d be in Heaven.” The sudden memory of running away from Zachariah during his last visit in Heaven washed over him, and he had to keep himself from frowning at it.  Typical douche bag angels to ruin Heaven for him.

In front of him, Sam too took a taste of his own beverage. Judging by the look on his face, he agreed with Dean.

“I could bring you some pie, if you want,” Castiel offered. Maybe this alternate universe wasn’t so bad after all.

“You have pie?”

“Yes. Cherry, blueberry, and raspberry, at the moment. We also sell sandwiches and muffins,” Castiel said.

“I’ll go with pie – gimme a slice of each.”

“Dean,” Sam protested, “You’re gonna get sick if you keep eating the way you do.”

Dean shrugged.

“Yeah, well, you gotta live a little, Sammy. And didn’t you say we were supposed to have fun today? I find pie real fun.” He made a gesture towards Sam’s bag.

“Besides; _you_ bought a bunch of stupid books.”

“They’re not stupid. That’s the opposite of what a book is.”

“Whatever. You want some, or is this party all mine?” Dean asked. Sam just rolled his eyes, which Dean took the liberty to interpret as a ‘no’.

“Alright, three slices for me, then.”  

Castiel left them to go fetch the order, while Sam grumpily stared out the window. If nothing else, this Sam was a lot more emotional than the one he was used to – _which sure was saying something_.

“How’s Jess?” he asked, after a few seconds of silence.

Sam huffed.

“She’s fine. She’s sorry about Barry, by the way.”

“Who?” Apparently, Sam didn’t catch on his actual confusion, so he just chuckled, despite the frown that he was still sporting.

“That’s the spirit. How have you been, anyway? Dad still busting your hump?”

Dean shrugged. He hadn’t met their dad in years.

“Oh, ya’know – yeah, I guess? It’s kinda his shtick, isn’t it?”

Sam just breathed out a laugh, slowly shaking his head.

“So everything’s good with you?” Dean continued, “You’re happy?”

Sam looked surprised for a moment, and then seemed to consider the question with a smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah,” he said finally, nodding thoughtfully, “Yeah, I’m happy. Are you?”

“Sure. I’m about to eat three slices of pie, who wouldn’t be happy?” Dean joked. All in all, as strange as the circumstances were, he was pleased to hear Sam say that. As much as this wasn’t _his_ Sammy, it was still some sort of version of him. A version of him that was happy.

“Your internal organs,” Sam scoffed, “It’s a wonder you’re not the size of a barn by now.”

Dean waved him off. He had excellent metabolism, a few pieces of pie wouldn’t hurt. That and, being a hunter, you kinda had to live every day as though it was your last – all things considered. He wasn’t likely to live to the age where having lead a crappy lifestyle would even matter, so it wasn’t as though he was about to hold out on himself. For all he knew, he could very well be in the process of being digested while waiting for his pie to arrive. Most things didn’t trap people in Woodstock land without reason.

“You look better now. Sound better too. How’s the bump?” Sam asked.

“It stings a little, but I’ll live. Ah-!”

Castiel, the bringer of pie, was waddling towards them with a brick balanced in his left hand, and carrying another blanket in his right. He stopped in front of them to place the large plate with all three different kinds of pie on it in front of Dean.

“Ah, you’re an angel!” Dean exclaimed, mentally patting himself on the back for that comment, “I haven’t had pie in ages! They look awesome!”

“You’re welcome. I made the blueberry one myself,” Cas said, giving him a lopsided smile. He then proceeded to lightly wrap the new blanket on top of the old one. Dean thought it was a bit of a strange gesture, but refrained from pointing this out. His whole experience thus far had been pretty strange, so it was just another thing to put on the ever growing list of odd occurrences.

“It’s important to keep warm this time of year,” the whatever-he-was said.

Dean drew his brows together. What was he talking about? It was late summer, if anything he should try and stay cool-

He looked out the window. _What the heck?_ It was snowing. He looked over at Sam. He was wearing a scarf, and a pair of gloves were neatly placed on his side of the table. He looked down at his own body. When had he put on a winter jacket…?

“Uh…” he said, ever so eloquently. He quickly regained his posture. “Thank you.”

“It’s alright, Dean. It’s in our best interest to look after our regulars.”

Dean blinked.

“That’s really kind of you,” Sam said over the sound of the gears turning inside Dean’s head. Wasn’t this supposed to be their first time there…? _And where was his pie!?_ He tossed a gaze around, but couldn’t spot his plate anywhere. All he had in front of him was a newly filled cup of the same type of coffee he had just about started on just moments earlier. His pie was gone – and he hadn’t even gotten a single bite.

“How are you, Dean?” Castiel asked, “You look a little lost.”

“Oh, no, I was wondering if you had any pie,” he answered, hoping that maybe the lack of pie was just a momentary issue.

“No, I’m sorry, not today,” Castiel said, effectively bursting his bubble, “Gabriel sort of ate the last of it.”

“Oh.” Well, that certainly cleared things up. _Gabriel_. He was pretty sure that absolute prick had kicked the bucket, but then, you could never really tell with that guy, could you?

So, by the looks of things, he was in for some just dessert. What was it, then? What had he done to deserve this, whatever ‘this’ was? He still couldn’t recall what he had been doing right before he got trapped by the pagan deity, but whatever it was, he was paying for it dearly. _Supposedly_ , at least. So far, nothing really bad had happened.

“How is Gabe, anyway?” Sam asked, sipping his coffee.

“Oh, he’s fine, I suppose. He had a bit of a run-in with Michael the other day, so they two of them aren’t speaking with each other at the moment. He’s basically spent the last couple of days cramped up in Lucifer’s room – it’s driving him insane,” Castiel explained. Dean raised an eyebrow while Sam nodded sympathetically.

“I just wish dad would come home from his business trip so he could sort things out. I can’t take it much longer” Cas groaned, leaning his weight onto the one hand he had leisurely placed on the table next to Dean’s arm, while he ran the other over his face.

Okay, so this was weird. Gabriel was one thing, but _Michael and Lucifer…?_ Why would the trickster include _them_ in his weird-ass games?

“If you want, you could stay at Dean’s for a few days, right Dean?” Sam said, giving Dean a quick look that revealed that he was clearly up to something, “I mean, if you need a break.”

“Or he could stay at yours?” Dean said, challenging an explanation out of his brother.

“Oh, c’mon? Jess just got home from the hospital, and I hardly think Cas wants to sleep in a house with a newborn baby. I don’t know about your baby-knowledge, but they’re a lot more work and a lot more noise than one would expect.”

_Baby…?_ Wait, had he just become an uncle without even noticing? Damn, he didn’t even know the thing’s name. He was a _horrible_ uncle.

“That’s okay,” Cas said with another groan, “I don’t want to invite myself into other people’s homes.”

“That’s no problem!” Sam assured him, Dean would love to have you over, wouldn’t you Dean?”

Castiel turned to give Dean an unsure look, while Sam winked at him behind the angel’s back. Was he reading the situation wrong, or was Sam trying to hook him up with Cas…? He rolled his eyes. _Right – Sam was delusional._

“I dunno, man. If you need it, sure, but you’re staying on the couch.” He shot his brother a glare, and Sam responded by simply shaking his head wearily.

“Where else would I sleep, Dean? You only have one bedroom,” Castiel asked. Dean thought about this for a moment. He didn’t actually know what ‘his place’ even looked like in this reality. Even Cas seemed to have more of a clue than he did, and that was seldom a good sign.

“Yeah, Dean; where else would he sleep?” Sam asked, a broad grin finding its way onto his lips. Okay, so apparently this Sam wasn’t only overly sentimental, he was also a total dick.

“Shut up, Sammy,” Dean huffed, not dignifying him with an answer. He turned to Cas to try and salvage the situation.

“What I meant was, if you’re gonna drag a bunch of stuff over, I’d rather you keep it and yourself in the couch area. I don’t wanna have to clean things up that I don’t even know what they are.” _Smooth._

“I don’t want to be a burden,” Cas said, placing his other hand on the table next to the first one. He cocked his head to the side.

“Although, to be clear, I wouldn’t go out of my way to make a mess of your apartment if you let me stay there for a while. I know how to clean up after myself,” he said.

He looked almost hopeful. Damn him. How was he supposed to say no, when he looked so pleading? And how was he supposed to say yes, when Sam was looking so pleased with himself? It didn’t matter, he reminded himself; this was all just a big dream or something, none of it was real. By the look of things so far, he could very well marry the guy without even noticing. He wondered briefly if maybe he was stuck in the coffee shop, and what would happen if he tried leaving.

“Sure,” he said, still pondering, “Stay with me for as long as you like. I have a few movies you should see, anyway.”

“That’s right,” Sam said, “Dean has a huge movie collection. A lot of rom-com. It’ll be great.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. _He had a lot of what now?_ Well this world was certainly just set out to screw with him, wasn’t it?

“That sounds lovely,” Castiel said. Dean looked up at him, unable to keep a grimace from forming on his face. _Lovely…?_ Since when did Cas find things to be _lovely_? He huffed out a sigh.

“Dean’s favourite is Love Actually. He has a bit of a crush on Hugh Grant,” Sam said, the grin back in place.

“ _What?_ ” Dean spat. _Who even was Hugh Grant?_ Okay, so he had a vague idea, but it wasn’t as though he had ever actually seen any of his movies. Not as far as he could recall, anyway.

“It’s okay, Dean. Everyone had celebrity crushes.” He was still grinning, and if it hadn’t been for the fact that he _looked_ like Sam, Dean would have punched him. Maybe he would anyway, if he didn’t lay it off. He wouldn’t have as much of a problem with the whole thing if it wasn’t so blatantly untrue.

“I once dated a British guy,” Cas pondered aloud, “It didn’t end very well.”

“Yeah, you should probably go for someone American,” Sam said, “You’ll have more in common.”

Dean mentally hissed at him. Nationality had nothing to do with compatibility, now he was just being stupid. But he knew what he was getting at. Sam had, for whatever reason, made it his current mission to be an annoying little huge prick, and Dean would have none of it.

“Sam, knock it off. You’re married, remember? You shouldn’t flirt with guys, think of your kid,” he said, trying to sound as even as he could. Sam looked positively offended.

“I’m not flirting!” he objected, “Dean, you’re the one who has a crush on him!”

Sam clasped a hand over his mouth, shooting Dean a terrified look. Dean, on the other hand, settled for looking about as dumbfounded as he felt. Crush? On _Cas_? What was he, high? Or maybe Dean was high, and that’s what all this was.

“I’m so sorry, Dean,” Sam blurted out, “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay,” Cas said, managing to draw both their attentions, “I mean, I don’t mind or anything. To be honest, I kind of suspected it.”

 

Nope. That was it. He would not sit there and let those two complete lunatics play with his head. This game was _over_. Whatever point Gabriel, or whoever was responsible, wanted to make, he didn’t want to hear it. This was all stupid, and he didn’t have to sit there and take it.

He stood up, both of his blankets falling from his shoulders from the abrupt motion. He shoved Cas aside and made his way towards the door.

“Dean!” Sam called from behind him. _No_. That was not Sam. That was not Sam, and _that_ was not Cas. He didn’t have any obligations to put up with either of them. He took a sturdy grip of the door and yanked it open. A cold air engulfed him as he stepped outside, hearing the rustling of not-Sam getting up from his seat.

“ _Dean!_ ” he called again, “ _No, I’m not done…!_ ”

 

Then there was sun. He blinked, his eyes straining to adjust to the sudden increase in light. What was this now? There was a gentle breeze in the air, and the trees were stained red by autumn. He was in a city park, with a playground just a bit up ahead on the road he was standing on. Behind him was a black metal fence lined with flowers and beyond that a road with cars peacefully trudging along. The grass outlining the gravelly road he was on was green, with only the occasional red or yellow leave travelling on it along with the wind. He himself was no longer wearing the winter jacket, but instead simply wore a red shirt with rolled up sleeves. 

This whole place just looked far too idyllic than he felt comfortable with. He could hear the soft sound of children laughing over by the playground, and it was not the haunted kind of laughter, either. How had he ended up here? He had only taken a few steps outside of the coffee shop, which clearly had not warranted this big of a change in scenery. Whatever had trapped him sure didn’t care about keeping up any illusions.

“Dean!” he heard Sam call, and for a moment he thought maybe he was back in the coffee shop after all. When he turned around, however, and was met by the happy smile of his brother with a backpack thrown on his back running towards him, it was clear to him that this was not the same kind of crazy as before. Sam looked… considerably younger than he used to. Not like, _child-young_ , but well under thirty. Sam caught up to him.

“Hey!” he said, giving Dean’s shoulder a rough pat, “How was class?”

Class? They were students. Collage, then, judging by Sam’s age. Dean was in collage…? Well, at least he wasn’t a horrible uncle anymore.

“Uh, fine. It was fine,” he said, hoping that would suffice, “What’s up with you?”

“Ah, yeah, look… I’m great, by the way, but, uh-“ he laughed nervously, which sent a feeling of dread over Dean’s already worried self, “I kinda have a favour to ask.”  


	3. I Won’t Say I’m in Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what's up with the disney titles. I thought it was a fun thing, but it doesn't actually make any sense. I hope you don't mind. I probably should point out that this chapter is stupid. Even by my standards. It's dumb. Bask in it.

“A favour…?” Dean echoed. Now this couldn’t be good.

“Yeah,” Sam said, looking guilty, “Or, actually, it’s not really me the favour’s for.”

Dean groaned loudly. This version of Sam seemed unable to get to the point.

“Just spill the beans, would you? We’re not getting any younger,” he snapped. Coincidentally, that was exactly what they, or at least Sam, had just done. Young, happy, and in collage. Somehow, despite the neat picture it made, it all seemed a bit too good to be… well, _good_.

“Okay, yeah, I just-“ Sam blabbered on, before he took a deep breath, “Could you pretend to be someone’s boyfriend?”

Dean thought he must have misheard him.

“Come again?” he said, wondering what exactly was wrong with Sam this time.

Sam nodded, rubbing his forehead with one hand.

“Okay, here’s the deal; Gabe has a few brothers, right? Well, the thing is, his youngest brother, Castiel, needs someone to pretend to be his boyfriend for a week, and I told Gabe I’d handle it. I figured you still owed me for taking the blame when you crashed Bobby’s Dodge Charger,” Sam explained, twiddling his thumbs nervously. Dean glared at him. What in the world was wrong with whatever had put him here? Clearly, something wanted him to bump shoulders with Cas, for whatever damned reason. It was so obvious, and so infuriating. What the heck did this thing think it was?

“ _Why?_ ” he asked, his voice betraying his annoyance.  

“Because you owe me!” Sam insisted, “And it’s not like you actually have to do anything with him – hold hands at most! I know you’re not into guys and all that, but could you just do me this favour, just this once, _please_ …?”

Well, at least this Sam’s head was screwed on a little better… He sighed. What were the chances he even _could_ refuse? Unlike at the coffee shop, there were no apparent exits around, and even if he found one, he’d likely just end up in another strange reality where Sam was even more of a moron.

“I meant more in line of ‘why does he need a pretend boyfriend?’. I guess I don’t have much choice when it comes to helping out,” Dean said.

A relieved smile spread across Sam’s face. He scooted the backpack further up on his shoulder before he spoke.

“Well, you see, uh… I don’t know if I got it right, but apparently their dad is trying to curry favour with a British oil sheik so he’s arranging a marriage between Castiel and that guy’s daughter. I think,” Sam explained.

“Dude, is that stuff even legal?”

“But according to Gabe, their dad is a real sap, so he won’t go through with it if Castiel already has someone he loves – especially if it’s a guy, since it’d be kinda messed up to marry a gay guy off to a chick.”

Dean could almost feel his brain liquefy and start running out of his ears. That was the most bizarre scenario he had ever heard uttered from a straight face. Never mind that most of it didn’t even make sense to begin with, but how would Dean pretending to be his boyfriend for a week help in any way at all? He decided to voice this concern, disregarding all the other nonsense.

“And me being his pretend boyfriend for a week will help how…?”

“His dad’s usually overseas, but he’ll be home for a week next week, so they need someone to be Castiel’s boyfriend,” Sam said.

“Right.” He nodded slowly. No, this whole thing was just stupid. _Again._ His captor clearly had dust for brains.

“Alright, so, what? I show up at his door on Monday and we play pretend ‘til daddy goes home?” Dean asked.

“Uh, you should probably see him this Sunday, though, right? To get your strategy together?”

Dean nodded, the corners of his mouth competing to see which one could reach the closest to his chin.

“Right,” he repeated. He still didn’t have any other plan than to play along, even if it didn’t seem to directly matter whether he did or not. Nothing had really changed; he still needed to figure out what was going on, and he wasn’t about to do that without any clues. He brought his hands up to massage his tired eyes.

“Okay, so how do I get to this place?” he asked.

 

He wasn’t even surprised. Alright, so maybe he was, but it wasn’t a lasting sense of surprise, only a moment of minor confusion. He looked around. So where was he now? A hallway? Probably some sort of apartment building, although it looked a bit too fancy to be. It wasn’t a very long hallway, and there were only one door on each side. At the end of it was a window, and behind him, where he assumed he must have logically come from, were a set of stairs.

He took a trying step forward, almost expecting the world to fall apart around him. When it didn’t, he took a few more steps until he reached the first door. It was on the left wall of the hallway, and next to it, on a neat gold-plated sign, read the name ‘ _Gabriel Novak_ ’. Dean furrowed his brows. _Novak?_ Where had he-? Oh. He walked up to the second door, already knowing what name would be on its gold-plated sign. He couldn’t help but scoff as he reached up to it to confirm his suspicions: ‘ _Castiel Novak_ ’. He huffed at the text disapprovingly. Jimmy Novak had been Cas’ vessel; it didn’t feel right at all seeing his name next to the angel’s. He didn’t know what name would suit Cas, but ‘Novak’ most decidedly wasn’t it. He rang the doorbell.

After only a moment’s wait, the door opened, and the familiar face of his best friend peeked out at him. He looked guarded, but also, just like Sam, a lot younger than usual. It was a strange look on him, one that Dean wasn’t sure he’d get used to.

“Hi, I’m Dean,” Dean said, feeling silly for having to introduce himself to someone he knew better than anyone. Of course; _this_ Cas was probably not at all like the one in his reality.

“Winchester?” Cas asked, his facing lighting up ever the slightest. Dean blinked. _That’s right._ That’s what it was. Cas wasn’t a ‘Novak’ – he was a _Winchester_. He had done enough to be considered family to him and Sam. He sent the sign another harsh look.

“Yup,” he said when the worried look on the other’s face started creeping back, “I’m here to rescue you, or something.” Cas nodded solemnly and opened the door.

If he had though the hallway was fancy, it was nothing compared to the interior of Castiel’s flat. The ceiling was considerably higher than outside, with plasterwork lining the top of the wall. The new hallway he had entered were both broader and lighter in colour, and from where he stood by the door, he could see into what he assumed was the living room with a pair of huge sofas, and large windows adorned with long hanging drapes. It was a little insane. Where in the world was he even supposed to be?

“I must thank you for helping me out like this. I know it’s a strange request, so I’m just glad Gabriel actually managed to get hold of someone,” Cas said, taking back his attention from the scenery, “Or, Sam, I suppose. How much did he tell you?”

“Uh…” Dean thought back to what to him felt like five minutes ago, “You’re dad’s insane. There’s some British oil sheik, which, by the way, is kinda weird, and you need someone to pretend to be your boyfriend or you’ll be shipped of to god-knows-where to be wed to some stranger. Or something.”

Cas looked a bit offended but nodded none the less.

“That’s right,” he said, “Or, at least, as right as it needs to be. We need to agree on a mutual story. In case anyone asks questions.”

“Right, so, what? We met through Sam. Now we’re doing this thing. It’s great. Everyone’s happy,” Dean suggested, going back to inspect the apartment. The coat hanger was really intricate.

“I think we may need a few more details,” Cas said, “Come. We can talk in the living room.”

That took Dean’s attention off the coat hanger. Living room sounded great, especially by the look of those sofas. He could totally get over having to spend a week on one of those.

Castiel took the lead as Dean strolled along behind. He led them into the living room that, on closer inspection, was even larger than he had expected. There was an open valve into the kitchen through the wall on the right next to the opening into the hallway, and then there was a large door on wall next to that. Behind him, on the left side of the living room, was another door that looked like it might lead into a bathroom or something akin to that.

Cas sat down on one of the large white sofas, the one closest to the enormous television that was now visible after having properly entered the room, and motioned for Dean to sit down next to him. Dean did just that, seating himself on a safe distance from the other, still gazing around to take in the room. There was a stereo, a gaming station, a friggin’ karaoke machine, a pool table, a large rather fancy, albeit otherwise boring, looking desk, and a dining table with a set of matching chairs in the room, among a few pieces of abstract, and less abstract, art.

“You’re one lucky son of a bitch…” Dean mumbled.

“What?”

“You wanted to go over the details?” Dean said, a tad bit louder, “How about you make the decisions, and I just go with it? I’m not too creative when it comes to these things.” He wasn’t sure what he was referring to when he said ‘these things’, but he felt that the less blame for potential screw-ups that could be pinned on him later, the better. If Cas decided everything, when it all inevitably went to Hell, it wouldn’t be Dean’s fault.

“Okay,” Castiel agreed, “We met through Gabriel and Sam. It was love at first sight. We’ve been together ever since.”

“You suck at this,” Dean heard himself saying. That wasn’t any more detailed than what Dean had said. Cas looked offended again.

“Then help me,” he ordered. Dean ran a hand over his face.

“Alright, okay,” he groaned, trying to think up details to add, “We met at one of Gabriel’s parties – he likes parties, right?”

Castiel nodded.  
“Right, okay.”

Cas looked at him expectantly. What was he gonna say? He didn’t want to create scenarios of how he and Cas had met. He already knew how they had met; Cas had burned Pamela’s eyes out, and Dean had stabbed Cas in the heart. There had been no love at first sight, and Sam had only barely been involved. Well, yeah, if Sam hadn’t gone and died, Dean wouldn’t have sold his soul and ended up in Hell, and as such wouldn’t have been pulled up topside by Cas… but with the whole apocalypse ordeal at the door, they probably would have ended up meeting eventually anyway.

“Maybe it doesn’t matter?” he asked, “So long as we just agree and act like we’re a couple or whatever, it should be fine, right?”

Cas didn’t look overly convinced.

“Okay…” he said slowly, “Should we practice that, then?”

Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Practice?”

“Yes. If we’re supposed to be a couple, we should look natural together, shouldn’t we?”

“Right, right- what do you mean _practice_?” Dean had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He could hold the guy’s hand for a minute or so if he really wanted to, but something told him that wasn’t what this was about. Castiel scooted over from where he sat until he was positioned right next to Dean.

“We should set boundaries,” Cas said. Dean nodded, not sure exactly what he was agreeing on, but boundaries sounded like a good idea. Castiel reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Is this okay?” he asked. Dean looked at him, and then down on the hand that was gently squeezing him, and then back to Cas.

“Uh, yeah?” he said. They _could_ always set boundaries vocally; it wasn’t like they had to be touchy about it.

Cas, casual as all Hell, dropped his hand down Dean’s knee.

“How about this?”

Dean repeated the motion of looking back and forth between Cas’ face and his hand. Was he going to put his hands all over him, or something? He could just ask ‘hey, is it cool if I stroke your leg’, and Dean could reply with ‘no, dude, that’s gay’. He didn’t have to _run his hand higher up Dean’s leg while staring at him with that piercing gaze…!_

“Woah!” Dean almost yelped, swatting away the hand that had almost found its way all the way up to Mr Johnsons’ house.

“I’m sorry,” Cas said hurriedly, grabbing onto his lecherous hand with the other as though he didn’t quite trust it.

“Just- no over the knee, no under the shoulder; okay? You can do whatever you want with my arms, but leave the rest alone.” He let out a heavy breath. How did he always manage to get into these weird situations all the time? None of that crap ever really happened to Sam, did it? Not exclusively, at least.

“Can I kiss you?” Castiel asked. He couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose at him. What was wrong with him?

“No, of course you can’t _kiss_ me! Jesus, Cas!”

“Can I… suck on your neck?” he asked.

“No?” That couldn’t have been a serious question.

“Can I pull your hair?”

“ _What?_ ”

“I need to know what I can and can’t do,” Cas clarified, looking as though that was enough to justify asking creepy-ass questions.

“Right- so how about this; you can hold my hand, link our arms together or whatever, and give me one of those Christian side hugs, and _that’s it_? I mean, this is your dad we’re talking about, right? It’s not like we need to make out in front of him, that’d just be weird.”

“But what if he asks us to kiss to prove that we’re not faking it?” Cas asked.

“Has anyone, in the history of ever, even done that? I mean, outside of the world of crappy rom-com’s? No one’s gonna _ask_ us to kiss, Cas.”

“But what if they do?” he asked.

“Then we’ll figure it out then! I’m telling you; it’s not gonna happen!”

Dean sank back in his seat, shaking his head. Of course, this wasn’t exactly _his_ world. Damnit, this place was pretty darn wonky; it wouldn’t even surprise him if Cas’ worries were justified. He really needed to get out before some nut-job ordered him to make out with his best friend. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to look the guy in the eyes again if he did that, even if the real him ended up knowing nothing of what had happened. It’d make things weird, and he was way too sick of weird to be up to that. But then again, it wasn’t as though the real Cas was even around very often. He probably wouldn’t even notice. He scoffed.

 

Behind them, he heard the door into the outer hallway open.

“Hell-o?” the most annoying voice in the world called.

“We’re in here,” Cas called back. Dean sank further into his seat. He’d get back problems if he stayed like this for long.

There was a bit of rustling by the door, before he heard the cheerful steps of his least favourite angel approaching. Okay, so maybe Michael and Lucifer… and Raphael, and Zachariah- _wow, Heaven really was stocked up on douche bags._

“Cassy!” the voice said.

“Gabriel,” Castiel replied ceremoniously. Dean felt a weight on the sofa over his head.

“And this here must be Dean-o. Sam sure wasn’t lying; he’s a cutie,” Gabriel laughed. Dean frowned. Sam, most decidedly, would never refer to Dean as a ‘ _cutie_ ’. Not that it wasn’t true, but it wasn’t like Sam to acknowledge stuff like that.

“Yes, he’s very attractive,” Castiel agreed. He looked up at them both from where he sat. They were aware that he was _right there_ , right? They were also aware that they were all guys, too, right? Guys normally didn’t sit around talking about how pretty they were.

He ignored Cas for a moment and focused his attention on Gabriel. So, was he the one behind all this? So far, aside from hearing Ellen’s voice, he was the only other person besides Sam and Cas that he had encountered. But on the other hand, they _had_ mentioned a whole bunch of other people that, if they too were around, would be more confusing than Gabriel. Then there was also the fact that Gabriel, just like Sam and Cas, looked a great deal younger. What was up with that, anyway?

“So, watcha doin’? You guys getting settled in, or what?” Gabriel asked, winking at his brother.

“Yes. We’re putting up boundaries,” Castiel explained and, as if he somehow needed to prove that, reached out and took a firm grip on Dean’s hand. Dean made a small jump, and was just about to pull away, when he caught the uncharacteristically bright smile on his friend’s face. He looked really proud of himself. Dean looked down on their linked hands. Right. He might as well get used to it. He instead looked up and flashed Gabriel a quick discontent smile.

“Aww!” the trickster let out, “That is the cutest thing I’ve seen all year.”

“Isn’t he?” Cas almost chirped. Dean could feel his cheeks redden – this was embarrassing! They were acting like a couple of old ladies admiring a baby. Why did he have to deal with crap like this?

“Yeah, that’s great,” Dean said dryly, snaking his hand out of Cas’ grip. The angel looked almost disappointed. Gabriel only snickered.

“You guys should probably get a move-on then,” he said, “Dad is coming home tomorrow and the sun is going down.”

Dean moved his head, glancing out one of the large windows at the sun that hung low in the horizon. Suddenly, it fell.

 

He was gonna get shell-shocked if this kept happening. It was dark now. Neither Cas nor the douche bag trickster was in sight, and the sofa that he was still seated on had been made for sleeping purposes. He looked around. Was he supposed to just go to bed, then?

There was a sound from the room he assumed was a bathroom. Was someone in there? He sat still, waiting. For a moment, he felt like he had been beamed straight into a horror movie, before the door to the bathroom opened. He squinted his eyes. Okay, so he sure had been beamed into _some_ kind of movie.

Out, clad in nothing but a white towel that hung uncomfortable low on his hips, came Castiel, his hair still dripping from what must have been a recent shower. He smiled when he caught Dean looking at him.

“Enjoying the show?” he asked.

“What?” He felt that throughout the course of his time in wherever he was, his vocabulary had been greatly reduced to but one word.

Cas just cocked his head to the side and threw his hands out. Dean almost snapped his own neck when turned away to look at practically anything other than the guy with the undedicated towel. He had seen enough pornos to know that thing was gonna fall off. Dean let out a barely audible whimper. What had he done to deserve this? Had he pissed someone off that he shouldn’t have? Probably. That seemed to be a constant issue on his part. He could hear the wet sound of feet approaching. This was gonna end bad, he just knew it.

“Dean?” Cas said, his voice right behind him.

“ _Yeah, that’s great, goodnight_ ,” Dean said, falling down on the sofa and closing his eyes. If he just kept his eyes closed, maybe morning would just pop up?

“You seem tense,” Cas said.

“ _No-no, I’m great, hope you sleep well._ ”

He felt a hand on his head, sending a shudder down his spine. The fingers softly scraped against his scalp, but didn’t do anything beyond that. Yet, at least. Maybe, he thought, he could just _kill_ Cas…? It wasn’t the real Cas, anyway, so it could be worth a shot, right? Unless it _was_ the real Cas and he had just been brainwashed. That wouldn’t be a first.

“You should try and relax,” Castiel suggested. Dean let out a hollow laugh. Right, he should _relax_. It wasn’t as though he had a half naked guy digging his fingers into his brains while he was just standing there with his barely covered dick just inches from his head- _oh, God no, he had his barely covered dick just inches from his head!_ If he so much as cranked his head up just a little, he would be met by the sight of Cas’ family jewels! He didn’t want angelic junk in his face!

He tried to discreetly creep further down on the sofa to escape the gay porno that was trying to play itself out between them. He had only watched gay porn once, which had been completely by accident, and that one had ended in the most disgustingly messy way imaginable. That was not something he wanted for himself.

“Dean?” Cas repeated, “… I’m not going to hurt you.”

“ _Yeah, I know, thank you, goodnight._ ”

He heard something that sounded like a chuckle, and then the hand was off of him. He opened his eyes slowly; half-expecting to see something he’d regret seeing, but found he had nothing to worry about. Yet.

Castiel had sat himself down on the other sofa and was looking at him with an amused look playing on his face.

“You look flustered,” he ever so helpfully pointed out, “I don’t want you to be afraid of me, Dean. I would never do anything to you if you didn’t want me to.”

Now he looked almost sad – sad and half naked. He had only seen Cas half naked once before, and that time he had been covered in bees. That was still an experience he was trying to recover from.

“Yeah, I know Cas, I just…” he trailed off. What exactly had he been worried for, anyway? If this Cas was anything like the real one, and he was in at least some ways, he wasn’t exactly about to start anything funny without making sure Dean was okay with it. If anything, the real Cas wouldn’t even try anything _even if_ he thought Dean wanted it. He wasn’t like that.

“I know.”

“However,” Cas continued, “If you want me to blow you, I will.”

 

 _Damnit!_ He had let his guard down and now they were right back in the gay porno!

“ _T-that’s okay, thank you- I mean, I-I’m good. Thanks_ ,” Dean practically shrieked, sending the TV an unsure look as though the reflection of himself in it was another person that could swoop down and safe him from the topic at hand.

“I’ve been told I’m really good at it,” Cas continued. Dean could feel the mortified look grow on his. Castiel didn’t seem to notice, as he was busy mentally undressing Dean with his eyes. Dean found himself squirming under his gaze. Who just casually offers a blow job, anyway!? Sure, he lacked people skills, but this was ridiculous! And why was he looking so raunchy? He didn’t actually think he’d go with it, did he? He was insane if he thought that! Just the thought of Cas’ head bouncing on his lap made him want to run for the hills.

Cas’ tongue briefly shot out to moisten his lips, and Dean found himself mimicking the motion. _Damnit!_ He mentally smacked himself over the head. Getting head was all well and good, but not when given by a stubbly peach-face like Cas!

“ _Yeah, no. Thank you for the offer, I think I’ll pass_ ,” Dean said, trying to laugh it off. Castiel’s eyes returned to his and he almost felt like jumping out the window. Why was he looking at him like that!? He was looking like a wolf that had stumbled into a charcuterie!

“Okay,” the less than angelic angel said, “I’ll go to bed then. I guess I’ll be in my room if you change your mind.”

“ _Right!_ ” Dean said politely, his voice only a few notes too high. He watched as Cas got up and walked his way over to the door closest to the kitchen. He turned around and gave Dean a small wave – and Dean waved right back – before he opened the door and disappeared behind it.

 

It was quiet again. Dean let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, lifting a hand to press against his chaotic heart. This was all way too stressful. He had always thought he’d die on a hunt, but now he was starting to think that maybe Cas’ blunt offers of sex would turn out to be a more liable cause. His face felt like it was on fire, and his hands were trembling. He wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced something so uncomfortable before. Hopefully, he would be able to avoid any more of that. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to get over it if he didn’t.


End file.
